


Tears

by jscribbles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Implied Non-Con, M/M, Season 6 Spoilers, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:38:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jscribbles/pseuds/jscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley destroyed Team Free Will, then Crowley helped patch them back together... Sorta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tears

**Author's Note:**

> Written for -wondersmith's tumblr One Word Destiel Contest. My prompt was 'tears'.

“Did you think you could just steal from me and get away with it?” Crowley laughed, bouncing the side of his knife against his arm. “Foiling my plans was forgivable. Betraying me was one thing. But stealing from me is one whole other ball game, love.”

Crowley paced down the side and around the table, dragging his blade down naked, sweating skin. Silver left red marks along the skin, burning but not penetrating the surface. It hopped over the tight leather restraints, dripping in to trace the sigils and markings engraved on them. 

He went on conversationally, dancing the blade over the pale inside of his victim’s forearms, drawing more sigils on there absentmindedly. “Clearly you misunderstood me when I said I was the _king of hell_. Did you not think if I knew how to get the souls out of purgatory that I would know how to get them back in? Did the prospect of finally gaining some power and getting it up make you completely brain dead and stupid?”

Castiel struggled against the straps that bound him to the table, naked, humiliated, enraged, and filled with fear. 

“Did you really think those souls would want _you_ when they could have me? I’m in charge of _hell_. What do you have? Daddy issues and a pretty meat suit?” Crowley smiled at Castiel, the fallen angel’s furious trembling only making him feel giddy and warm. The demon leaned over Castiel, chuckling softly as he struggled up against the bindings, trying to fight back. Crowley undid the gag and lifted it from Castiel’s cracked, bleeding lips. 

“Fuck you.” whispered Castiel, his voice broken and so filled with fury that it shook. Crowley laughed and pressed his blade against the slick skin of Castiel’s stomach. 

“Where did you learn those naughty--” He dug the blade into flesh, relishing in the strangled noise that escaped Castiel’s throat, “--words? From your boyfriend, no doubt.” Crowley sighed contently as he slipped his blade deeper into his victim until the hilt met flesh and his fingers were coated in blood. He felt warm and satisfied. “Too bad,” he murmured, slowly retracting the blade and not taking his eyes off Castiel’s open, soundless screaming lips, “that he _hates_ you now. It‘s too bad that he wishes you were dead. He probably would love to be watching right now.

“He would probably love to see you like this. Naked, sweating, panting, and whimpering like you’re enjoying this.” Crowley’s words were like silk, like dark chocolate, so smooth they might’ve sounded comforting if they weren’t destroying Castiel slowly. “I’m going to start off slowly, all right? You seem like the type to like it slow. Slow and deep, right? Then I’ll pick up the pace, and you _will scream_. Is that how Dean used to do it?” Crowley dragged the blade across unmarked, pale skin, cutting shallow at first, then deeper and deeper until his knife was buried deep inside Castiel’s flesh. The fallen angel panted hard and high whines sounded involuntarily from his throat but he did not scream. No matter how horrible the pain or how agonizing the torture was, he refused to give in.

“Fuck you.” Castiel managed to snarl through his laboured breathing.

“Only in your darkest fantasies, my love.” Crowley murmured, grinning he reached behind him to a neatly set up operating table. Castiel squeezed his eyes shut, trembling in pain and yes, fear. He’d worked with Crowley for almost a year. He’d seen the horrifying things he’d done to those monsters. Somehow, he knew Crowley had this planned for a while, just in case. God - or whoever - only knew what Crowley had been saving up for him. When Castiel finally open his eyes, his vision focused on Crowley, smiling down at him, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement and his long, elegant fingers holding a syringe filled with blood.

“ _No_.” Castiel moaned, knowing what was going to happen next. Even though he was bound, his body automatically struggled to move away, though his restraints held him down fast. 

“You talk too much.” And with that, the gag went back over his mouth, the leather cutting into the skin of his face. Crowley squirted the syringe experimentally into the air, sending little droplets of blood sprinkling down onto Castiel’s stomach. The drops that touched his wounds sizzled and had the ex-angel arching into the restraints, strangled sounds escaping his throat. 

“Beautiful.” said Crowley simply. Then he injected Castiel with the remainder of the demon’s blood. 

Castiel had never experienced a worse pain in his entire existence. Nothing Zachariah had ever done to him could compete. Castiel screamed, which pleased Crowley to no end, and convulsed in on the hard, steel table. The venom coursed through his veins, burning his insides and lighting a fire inside him that was so potent that he felt himself rise as far off the table as he could and make the gaping wounds all along his torso ooze scalding, blackened blood. Sweat ran off his skin in thick beads, only making the blood coated metal more slippery against his back. The pain was so horrifying he forgot who he was for entire minutes at a time. Words were forced past his lips he didn’t even recognize, in languages he forgotten he even knew. When the pain finally faded away, after what felt like hours, Castiel was weak and trembling so hard the entire table shook and small, dog-like whines were the only noises he had any strength to make. The sweat that coated his skin was as thick as the blood that poured from his wounds. He could feel his hair plastered to his skin in clumps. 

He felt fingers touching his face gently, softly, and he moaned. They felt so good. So good. 

“You are absolutely lovely when you cry. So lovely. Shall we play again?”

Castiel meant to scream out in protest, but all that happened was that he whimpered and thick, hot tears squeezed out past his half-closed eyes, tumbling down the sides of his face and disappear into his hair. He felt his own cracked, aching lips form some kind of words, but in the haze of his pain he could hardly process his own thoughts. Crowley leaned over him and smiled as he asked, “Sorry, love?”

The gag came off his lips and Castiel gasped hungrily for air like a drowning man breaking the surface. Horrible, rushed sobs escaped his lips. Crowley made sympathetic noises and brushed tears from his face. 

“I know, love. It hurts. It hurts.” Crowley cooed, leaning out of Castiel’s vision to turn back to the table. Castiel heard a horrible noise that was sounded suspiciously like a syringe being filled and he sobbed more, his cheat heaving and his arms shaking violently in their holders. Crowley turned back to him, squirting the blood at his face and laughing when Cas cringed and tried to turn his face away. “You know, I was going to burn those baby blues right out of their sockets, but you’re such a pretty crier that I might just leave them where they are.” He posed the syringe against Castiel’s arm.

Before he could even process his own thoughts, Castiel mumbled, “Dean… Dean will come.”

Crowley had to stop to laugh. He laughed so hard that even through the horrible, burning heat radiating from Castiel’s body, he still felt the hot flush of humiliation pooling in his cheeks.

“Look, love. I was just joking about that. Dean doesn’t love you. He doesn’t want to fuck you. He doesn’t’ even want to look at you. He _hates_ you. As he should. You’re a sinful, disgusting, traitorous bastard.” The last bit was dripping with venom. Slowly Crowley leaned over Cas, so close he could feel his cool breath against his face - it was almost pleasant. “The only way Dean Winchester would show up was if it was to _kill you himself_.” 

Castiel turned his face away, his eyes squeeze shut against a fresh wave of tears. Crowley grinned and eyed the syringe lovingly as he continued. “And I wouldn’t particularly enjoy that, considering I don’t plan on killing you.” Castiel’s heart jumped, though he would find himself disappointed in Crowley’s following words. “I’m going to hurt you until your begging me to end your pathetic existence,” he aimed the syringe at Castiel,” and then I’m going to set you free.” He squeezed the handle, squirting blood at the former angel, smiling sickly when Cas jerked away. “I’m going to call the Wincesters and hand you over. They’ve been looking for you. You see, I’ll let them do whatever they please with you. Whether you walk away from that _dead_ or alive, you’ll spend the rest of your existence in agony. You’re going to walk this planet alone, outcast, hated, hunted. Everyone upstairs wants a piece of you. Everyone downstairs… well, who am I to tell my demons not to play? And,” He smiled at something behind Castiel, looking fond. “Everyone in between hates you. It‘s going to be a hard, long life, Cas. I don‘t have enough mercy in me to kill you.” 

And with that he stuck the needle into Castiel’s arm, filling his veins with demon blood and making him arch his back in torment. This time, a new pain joined the pain of the blood. As his heart broke in his chest and all he felt was sadness, new tears slipped down his face and disappeared into his hair. 

\- - - 

Even though the blood injections had stopped, Castiel _burned_ from the inside. Who knows how long it had been since Crowley’s last injection, but a fire burned in his heart that seemed so much worse than the boil of venom in his veins. Crowley had gone, leaving him alone in the room, still tied down and gagged. But Castiel had long stopped struggling. When Crowley had moved from injections to flaying the skin off his arms, to breaking fingers and bruising his face, then to… to doing things to him, invading him in more intimate ways than he’d ever imagined, Castiel could only lie there, no longer screaming or struggling. He only cried. Silently. He barely bothered to open his eyes, but tears still formed thick and continuous, slowly dripping down the corners of his eyes and creeping agonizingly down sticky, damp skin. 

He’d cried before, of course. There had been tears shed for his lost brothers, fallen and killed in battle. He’d felt tears slide down his face after losing all hope in his father. His eyes had grown damp and his lashes wet when the world was ending. He had definitely let the tears flow when Zachariah had broken his wings as punishment for his actions of treason. But these tears were different. They steamed from a deeper pain, from a broken part of himself he had forced himself to bury. It came from a place within him that he’d pretended wasn’t there, that had been buried because it made him feel weak. These tears came from the human part of him that harboured feelings like guilt, and shame, fear, and love. These tears came from heartache and loneliness. He’d forgotten all about this place when he’d taken in those souls, when he thought he’d given them a home. He had been wrong of course, they were just using him, sucking on his life force, his grace, and then left him for Crowley’s undeniable darkness when the time was right and there was nothing left to take. 

Castiel felt weak and alone. Suddenly everything he was trying to bury resurfaced and tears poured from him as he felt everything all over again. He thought of Dean, wanting to please him, wanting to mean something to him. He felt determination to save him, to keep him safe. Feelings of hurt soon followed, feelings of shame for lying, for betraying, for keeping secrets, and for hiding. When he shut his eyes all he saw was Dean turning his back, and Dean’s eyes filled with anger and hurt through the angel fire. He remembered those same tear filled eyes glaring up at him with hatred and revulsion from Lisa‘s beside. He remembered his own horrible, agonizing hurt when he realised they were working against him, working to hunt him down, kill him. 

He was so deep in himself that he hardly realised that Crowley had returned, walking up to him lazily, hands clean of blood, and instead swirling a crystal glass filled with an amber liquid.

“Darling, you are a hot mess.”

Castiel was too tired and too damaged to work up the will to make a noise or reply. Not that he could. The bindings across his face were so tight he could hardly feel his jaw anymore. Crowley leaned over and stroked his forehead softly.

“What is it, love? You can talk to me.” He sounded so smug and gleeful it made Castiel’s stomach roll nauseously. The only noise Castiel made was a small sniff and a shaking exhale of breath against the tight leather strap across his mouth. More tears poured from the corners of his eyes.

“Aw.” Crowley cooed, tucking blood and sweat slicked hair behind Castiel’s ear in a mockingly mother-like gesture. “Are you sad because you friends hate you, and no matter what you do, you’re going to burn in hell for eternity?”

Crowley laughed as Castiel released the smallest noise of misery.

“Crowley!” a familiar voice barked from somewhere across the room. Castiel almost screamed out in relief and perhaps sadness, while Crowley glanced up and opened his arms wide as if he was welcoming family back for the holidays.

“Boys. Lovely to see you. I’m so glad you could drop by. Drink?”

Footsteps drew closer and to Castiel’s grief there were no sounds of urgency or gunshots. Only unthreatening footsteps. Two sets of footsteps.

“What is it?” He heard Dean’s voice ask quietly. Castiel might’ve imagined a shake to the question. He heard Crowley snort from his left.

“It’s Castiel. What the fuck else does this look like?”

“What do you mean ‘it’s Castiel’?” It was Sam. Castiel’s heart slammed into his chest hard and fast. He remembered what he did to Sam and more tears pooled in his eyes. As expected, Sam didn’t sound impressed.

“It is Castiel.” Crowley repeated slowly, as if he were explaining it to a small child that didn’t understand English. He snorted, taking a sip from his drink. “Castiel, you know… God 2.0. Daddy issues. Trench coat. Doesn’t know how to put on a tie to save his life?”

“Shut up. We get it.” Sam snarled. Finally, Castiel hears the nose of a gun being raised. He almost cried out in relief. But then he feels cold metal on the side of his head.

“Shut up.” Sam repeats, this time it was undoubtedly directed at Castiel. Crowley snorted and winked at Castiel, glancing up at Winchester brothers, who both looked furious. Dean wasn’t looking at Castiel, to Castiel’s dismay and horror - he refused to look at him. Instead he was fixing his furious gaze on Crowley. “How did you restrain him? He’s not an angel anymore.”

Crowley scoffed, sounding offended. “Excuse you, Winchester. I don’t know what is so hard for people to grasps -- I am the King of _Hell_. Getting a millions of blood-thirty souls to come to me wasn’t exactly a chore. What was this wanker giving them? He was an evil bugger but he thought he was being righteous. Save the world, fix daddy’s mistakes, peace for the believers. Do you think the souls of Purgatory want to save the world they were rejected and cast out from? They want blood, revenge. Clarence the friendly angel here wanted to destroy evil and reward the righteous!” Crowley’s voice was raised and he looked peeved by the end of his spiel. Something changed in Dean’s face. Crowley rolled his eyes, “The straps are nothing special. Boring straps for a boring human. The sigils are just there.”

“What are you saying?”

“The only soul in there is Castiel’s very own. Not that it‘s much by now.”

“Angels don’t have souls.” Sam spat, still sounding furious. “Especially not this one.”

Crowley laughed, the horrible, cruel sound bouncing off the walls and filling Castiel’s pounding, aching head.

“You dumb human, of course angels have souls. It‘s what make them able to feel, when they do, _if_ they ever do.” He smiled and turned to Castiel, running a hand down the side of his face. He caught a tear with his finger and placed it on his tongue, snorting. “Tastes like a soul to me. A human soul though. No more angel in there. I figure those darlings from purgatory ripped that apart while Casie was playing house with them.”

“The soul. It’s Jimmy’s.” Dean said forcefully, like it was choked out of him, like he was trying to convince himself.

Crowley snorted again. “Oh, _please_. That soul was gone ages ago. I’m telling you, it’s your Casie in here.”

“Is this what you called us here for?” Sam’s cold voice was loud after a long silence that followed Crowley’s words. “Because we don’t care.”

“Sam--”

“ _We don’t care_.” Sam repeated forcefully, cutting of his brother. “Dean, let’s go.”

Castiel had been silent through the entire exchange, but the younger brother’s words broke something else inside him and Cas whimpered, struggling against his restraints, a newfound strength following the news that they were about to abandon him, about to leave him alone with Crowley again. He didn’t want to exist like this. He didn’t want to just be another one of Crowley’s pets that he tortured. He didn’t want to be driven insane, to be broken beyond repair. He was a child of God, he had a soul, he had been a damn _angel_ , a soldier of heaven -- 

He opened his eyes and stared at Dean, willing him to meet his gaze. _It’s me, it’s me. Please, please._

But Dean wouldn’t meet his gaze. He started somewhere past Crowley, his face looking like it did that night with the angel fire. Sam stepped into Castiel’s vision, gripping his brother’s arm and shaking it.

“Let’s go. It’s not Castiel, Dean. Castiel is gone.” When Dean was silent, Sam snarled at Crowley, “You son of a bitch! Is this what you dragged us here for? To try to convince us this is Cas? Castiel is dead. He died when he decided to betray us, when he went dark side --”

Crowley smiled and shrugged, “Just thought I’d give him over to you. I know you’d been looking for him.”

“To kill him.” Sam spat, fury etched in every line of his face. “We were looking for him to kill him.”

The demon shrugged. “Do whatever you want with him. Kill him, leave him. I mean, I wouldn’t waste a gorgeous, broken creature like this. I supposed there’s always an extra cell he could stay in around here somewhere. He does make the loveliest noises when you bleed him.”

“Shut up!” 

This time it was Dean. “Shut the fuck up, Crowley.”

Crowley sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was getting fed up. “Look _I_ have the souls. They’re safe and sound with me. Well, for now. I may sick ‘em on you later. For now they are having a lovely time gaining strength in hell. This bloke,” He gestured to Castiel’s trembling, bleeding form, “is all alone in that meat suit. Either you take him or leave him. He’s the same feathery ass that he was before the whole souls-business. Just… a bit broken.” Crowley sounded positively gleeful.

“We’ll pass.” Sam murmured, grabbing his brother again and pulling him towards the door. To Castiel’s horror, Dean actually turned away and followed his brother. 

Suddenly it was all too much. Cas screamed and writhed against his constraints, sobbing uncontrollably and tearing open his wounds further, feeling sweat and blood slick his skin again. Hot, thick, unyielding tears poured from his eyes, blurring his vision and tumbling down his face, pooling around his swollen, red eyes. He screamed and screamed and struggled so fiercely that he hardly heard Crowley’s laughter and Dean’s footsteps as they got louder.

Suddenly he was overtaken by shadow and the gag was being ripped form his mouth. Someone was screaming for him to stop, but as soon as he got a lungful of air, all Castiel could do was cry and cry. He wept pathetically, desperately, completely overcome by despair, and pain, and hurt. He couldn’t believe he was going to live out the rest of his existence in a cell, on a torture table, being cut into and raped and being injected with demon blood until he was driven mad or killed or, or -- 

Hands grabbed his face and forced it to tilt to his right. Dean was there, a foot above him, his eyes widen and rimmed in twin tears, dangling just on the edge, threatening to fall. 

“Shut up, shut up. Please, please, please _stop_ …” 

But the hands pressed to his face hurt so much - everything hurt so much. Castiel continued to sob, wracked with feelings of misery and loss, with sensations of pain and horror. He felt completely lost and abandoned. This was it. There was no saving him anymore. No one wanted him - not God, not Dean, or Sam or the angels. He didn’t belong anywhere. Paradise was closed off to him and earth didn’t want him. Not one single soul loved him… He was doomed to be one of Crowley’s creatures for the rest of his pathetic, lonely existence…

“Cas.”

The one word stopped his thoughts dead in their wake and he felt a stillness come over his body that was only interrupted by shudders. Dean was staring at him, tears also running down his face, his fingers slowly moving back and forth over Castiel’s scalp, tangling in his sweat-soaked hair and briefly running over the tops of his ears.

“Cas,” He repeated, the word sounding like a caress in the midst of all these hard tones and sharp words. Dean inhaled shakily before he whispered, so quietly his words could have been a breath of air, “Cas, you tell me the truth… is that you? Are you Cas? Are you my Cas?”

Cas nodded slowly. Dean smiled tightly at him, then leaned closer, pressing his forehead to Cas‘, whispering, “Stop crying, Cas. Please, I can’t stand it.”

And then he began cutting through the leather straps that held his angel to the blood caked table. 

“Dean! What are you _doing_?” Sam asked, his voice filled with horror. Dean ignored him and sliced off the last of the straps, righteous fury fuelling each swift stroke.

“He fucked up, Sam. But I’m not leaving him here.” Dean said steadily. He looked up at Crowley, “Where the fuck are his clothes?”

Crowley was leaning against his instrument table, looking all too pleased with the scene playing out in front of him. He reached behind him under the table and tossed a wrinkled bundle at the hunter who caught it and go right to work. Crowley was rather surprised he hadn’t been attacked yet. He sipped on his drink contently.

Castiel trembled aggressively, curling in on himself holding his hands up to his face and pressing his eyes against his forearms, holding his broken fingers away from himself. He felt gentle hands on his flayed arms and left himself be lifted. Horrible pain shot through his body and he moaned. As he sat up, Dean draped Jimmy’s white dress shirt over his shoulders. It was an ordeal to get his pants on but Dean insisted they do it. Cas cried out when his broken toes touched the ground but after some struggling they managed to slip black trousers over his waist.

Dean turned to Crowley, sneering, “I’m going to kill you one day. And because of this, I’m going to make it nice and slow. Hell is gonna seem like Disney Land when I‘m finished with you.”

Crowley laughed and then disappeared with a snap of his fingers. Castiel collapsed onto the floor, burying his face in his forearms, rocking back and forth as the weight of his situation rested heavily on his shoulders. The entire ordeal had achieved exactly what Crowley hand intended; he felt trapped, alone, and frightened. 

“You’re pathetic.” Sam spat. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to Cas or Dean, but the youngest Winchester left the room. 

Cas sniffled and exhaled shakily, more tears pour down his face, this time leaving lines down through the grime, the sweat, and the blood on his face. The tears lingered on his chin and dripped down into his clothing. Oh God, he ached everywhere. He hurt everywhere. Everything that was part of his body had been touched by either Crowley himself or by Crowley’s blade. He felt filthy and tarnished. But worst of all, he felt shame, humiliation, guilt, confusion, and hatred towards himself. Sam was right - he was pathetic… he was a traitor who deserved to be left behind. He’d broken Sam’s wall - and that was before the souls, before the overwhelming power that had swallowed him and left him gasping for release in his own body, unable to control. 

After a moment, as Castiel struggled to control the feelings twisting and rolling around inside his chest, Dean grasped his arms and pulled them away from his face. 

“I hated you.” Dean whispered. Castiel lost his battle with his emotions and he released one sob, letting tears pour down his face. Looks like he was making up for a millennia of hold them in. |Dean continued, his own voice trembling and hitching. “I fucking wanted you to die. I wanted to kill you myself. Every day I prayed that you’d just go to hell, that you’d just explode from all the souls. I hated you for what you did to Sam…”

“I know.” Castiel whispered, his chin trembling. “ _I know._ ”

Dean didn’t stop though. “You destroyed him for a while, you know, Cas? Sam tried to kill himself, did you know that? Twice. Each time I found him. Bleeding out of his arms or choking on his own vomit because he’d overdosed on some fucking pills.” Dean was crying openly now, his fingers gripping Castiel’s forearms tighter, the flayed flesh bleeding again. His face was contorted in agony. “I had to watch him while he slept because he’d claw himself to shreds during the nightmares. He… Every time he held a gun I was scared he was gonna turn it on himself and I’d be l-left here alone.” 

Dean stopped, his entire body trembling, his grip on Cas so tight his fingernails were digging into exposed flesh. Cas slumped forward, resting his forehead against Dean’s collar, hot, silent tears streaking his face and falling down between them. He felt Dean’s own tears dripping down onto his face. 

“And… and me? I… I didn’t even have _you_. You fucking… you fucking betrayed us. You lied and you deceived. I never, _never_ thought that would you would do that, that you were capable of anything like this. You were Cas. Stupid, staring, blinking Cas.” Arms wrapped around Castiel and he couldn’t even complain about his shoulders aching and his back feeling like it was going to break because goddamn did he miss the feeling of arms around him. Dean sniffled wetly above him, leaning down to press a cheek against Castiel’s dripping, dark locks of hair. “Another friend gone from my life. And you know what? I blamed myself. I _blame_ myself. You were out there killing angels and smiting, pumped full of evil souls and all I wanted to do was punish myself for putting you there.”

“You.. You didn’t --” 

“No! Shut up, I’m talking.” Dean whispered furiously, shaking Cas. It ached, but Cas deserved it. “You don’t fucking talk right now, you feathery son of a bitch. You nearly killed my brother, you nearly killed me. You threatened our lives more than once, and you killed some of our allies, so you shut the fuck up and let me talk.” Contrary to his tone, Dean just hugged Cas close, burying a hand in his hair and stroking the back of his head. “You’re lucky Sam is back to being Sam - he’s bitter and angry, but he’s fucking Sam. You thank your fucking luck that he’s Sam or I would’ve left you on that fucking table to be Crowley’s bitch forever, do you hear me? But I’m being selfish. This is me being selfish. I’ve missed you so much I think it drove me insane for a bit. I dreamed about you and thought about you all the time. Every time I made a reference I thought about how you wouldn’t get it. Every time someone mentioned souls I’d fucking picture you looking at me with those fucking empty eyes and I’d break all over again.” Castiel lifted his head and met Dean’s gaze. They looked at each other for a while, tears streaming down their cheeks and emotions crackling in the air like electricity. Dean pulled Cas close by the back of his neck and pressed their foreheads together.

“I missed you so much. I forgot what you sounded like so I called your cell phone just to hear you talking to your answer machine like a big fucking idiot.

“Look… I’m going to take you home now, okay?” Castiel couldn’t help it, he whimpered and nodded, feeling relief like he never remembered feeling. That, and something else. “I’m gonna patch you up, give you something to wear that isn’t hideous and dirty, and then I’m never gonna let you out of my fucking sight.”

Despite where they were, who they were, and what happened between them, the two men laughed quietly at that, their laughter pausing only to allow tears to flow and cheeks to nuzzle. Dean continued after a bit. “I’ll never let you feel like you’re not wanted. I’m sorry you couldn’t turn to me. I’m sorry, Cas. It’s eaten at me for over a year now… I fucking pushed you away because I was feeling things for you that I thought I shouldn’t. I… fuck… I want you to stay. Sam is going to punish you in every fucking way that he can, but he’ll get over it. He’s Sam. His heart is the biggest muscle he has. He’ll forgive you.”

“And you?”

Dean pulled back, looking deeply into Castiel’s eyes before he dragged the back of his fingers down his sweaty cheeks and wiped away tears from the fallen angel’s face. 

“I forgave you the moment I saw you lying there on that table, the moment I saw tears fall from your eyes… I thought I never want to see those again. I‘ll die before I see those again.”


End file.
